Serendipity
by Embellished
Summary: When Ginny Weasley agrees to help restore an old theater for charity, the last person she expects to find there is Draco Malfoy.
1. Part I

**A/N:** This story was written for Serenitey as part of the 2009 D/G Fic Exchange on LiveJournal. Her original prompt is below. I'll post the story here in two parts. Many thanks to 7veilsphaedra for extremely helpful discussions about plot, character, and setting; this story wouldn't be what it is without her. Thanks also to Persephone33 for answering my theater questions, and to my husband for his fabulous editing skills. The definition of serendipity is from _The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary_.

**Original Prompt:**

**Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic:**  
**The tone/mood of the fic: **I prefer an ending where D/G are together. Witty banter, insults, and sarcasm along the way is always fun though.  
**An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic:**  
Gold, sparkly top hat.  
A necklace.  
A coincidence.  
**Preferred rating of the the fic you want: **I'm never sure how to categorise ratings. I guess going by sorta naughty and up.  
**Canon or AU? **Canon but feel free to disregard the epilogue.  
**Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): **Weak Ginny or an overly dark Draco. Extreme fetish. Harry being a complete idiot. Character death. Abusive Malfoys. If set post-Hogwarts, please give Ginny her own apartment. Can be shared with someone, just out of The Burrow.

* * *

**Serendipity**

~*~*~*~

**serendipity** /sεr(ə)n'dıpıti/ n. M18 [f. _Serendip_, _-dib_, said to be a former name of Sri Lanka (Ceylon) + -ITY; formed by Horace Walpole after the title of a fairy tale, _Three Princes of Sarendip_, the heroes of which 'were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of'.] (A supposed talent for) the making of happy and unexpected discoveries by accident or when looking for something else; such a discovery. Also, _loosely_, good luck, good fortune.

~*~*~*~

**Part I**

Ginny sneezed three times in quick succession as she stepped into the lobby of the old Serendipity Theater. The light was dim. Dust hung heavy in the air, obstructing her view, but she could still see Sophie a few steps ahead.

"Watch out as you come through here," Sophie said. "The fountain seems to have collapsed, and there's a beam hanging from the ceiling."

Ginny stepped delicately through the rubble. She shuddered when she recognized one piece: a marble hand. "Do you really think it will be possible to restore this place?" she asked. "It doesn't seem to be in very good shape."

"What did you expect?" Sophie asked, trying ineffectively to open a large door. "The theater has been abandoned since the war with Grindelwald."

"I know," Ginny said, as she reached out to help Sophie pull on the door handle. "I guess I just hadn't considered quite what that meant."

"Well, we certainly do have our work cut out for us," Sophie said. "But it will be worth it. You'll see."

The door opened under their combined force and Ginny got her first glimpse of the theater. It was just as dusty as the lobby, but light filtered from a grand chandelier. Ginny stood still, taking in the wide dome of the ceiling, the graceful curve of the proscenium, and the elaborately carved woodwork of the boxes. The fabric was moth-eaten, the wood rotten, and the paint faded and chipped, but Ginny could easily picture how it must have looked in its heyday, when the ceiling had been frescoed, the woodwork highlighted with gilt, and the upholstery a rich velvet.

Ginny had fallen in love with Hogwarts the first time she had seen it, and she experienced the Serendipity the same way now. All of her doubts about the restoration were put to rest. Any amount of hard work would be worth it if she could see the theater at its best once more.

"Come on," Sophie said, interrupting Ginny's thoughts. "I'll introduce you to my uncle."

Montrose Bradley was a rotund man with a full blond beard, bald head, and rosy cheeks. He greeted Ginny with a wide smile and a firm handshake. "Welcome, welcome," he said heartily. "You call me Monty and I'll call you Ginny and we'll get along famously!"

"Okay, Monty," Ginny said happily; she liked him already. "I'm happy to help."

"We need all the help we can get, as you can well see," Monty said, looking around the decaying theater.

"It's beautiful," Ginny said. "I can't wait to see it when it's done."

"She's a real gem, the Serendipity," Monty said, "and I've seen my share of theaters, I can tell you."

"Sophie told me you've been in America for years, acting and directing," Ginny prompted.

"So I have," Monty said. "There hasn't been much call for wizarding theaters in Britain for many a year. It's a real shame." He shook his head sadly. "A real shame."

"But that's all going to change now, isn't it?" Ginny asked cheerily.

Monty smiled. "Damn right it is! We just need to clean this place up a bit and put on a show, and everyone will remember what they've been missing. They'll be clamoring for more! Clamoring!"

"What can I do to help?" Ginny asked.

"Ginny's amazing with fabric charms, Uncle Monty," Sophie said.

Ginny smiled, acknowledging to herself that growing up poor had its advantages—she had learned a lot that she wouldn't have otherwise.

"Ah, good with fabric, are you?" Monty asked, looking at Ginny speculatively. "Then you and Sophie can be in charge of the upholstery, and maybe the costumes when the time comes. Do you know any good costume charms?"

"I know some clothing charms," Ginny said tentatively. "Are costume charms much different?"

"Not too different! Not too different!" Monty said, clapping his hands together. "They just need to be done all of a piece, you know?"

Ginny didn't know. She looked at Sophie in confusion. Sophie mouthed, "I'll show you later," so Ginny just nodded and smiled at Monty.

"You'll do a right job, I'm sure," Monty said.

"I'll do my best."

"Of course you will!" Monty enthused. "Now where did I put that lighting plan?" He wandered away, leaving Ginny and Sophie behind.

Ginny sneezed violently. "I think the first thing we should do is get rid of this dust," she said.

* * *

Ginny and Sophie worked well together. Even though Sophie was four years younger than Ginny, they had become fast friends two years earlier, when Sophie joined Ginny as one of the Chasers on the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team. When Sophie had told Ginny about her uncle's plan to restore the Serendipity Theater and stage a production of _Much Ado About Nothing_ to raise money for a children's wing at St. Mungo's, Ginny had readily agreed to help. Now, they were working together wielding Molly Weasley's favorite dusting charm. It was slow work. They had only made it a short way into the theater when they heard someone trying to open the stubborn lobby door.

"Maybe we should have started by fixing that instead," Sophie said.

Both women abandoned their work to help open the door, which was much easier to do with Ginny and Sophie pushing from the theater side, and the other person pulling from the lobby. Very soon, the door popped open and the other person stepped into the light.

Ginny gasped. It had been nearly seven years since she had seen him, but she would recognize that hair anywhere. "Malfoy!" she hissed.

As Ginny stared at Draco, he was staring at the theater, much as Ginny had earlier. Upon hearing his name, he turned to look at Ginny. His expression was blank for a moment before recognition flashed across it. "Weasley?" he asked.

"You two know each other?" Sophie asked curiously.

"Unfortunately," Ginny said, glaring at Draco.

"What Weasley means to say, Bradley," Draco said in and even voice, "is that our paths crossed more often at Hogwarts than you would expect, considering we were in different years and houses."

"That's putting it mildly," Ginny said through clenched teeth. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco looked Ginny up and down. She suddenly felt conscious of her dust-covered clothing and messy hair. "I would guess that I'm here for the same reason you are," Draco said.

Ginny snorted. "You can't think I'll believe you're here to do manual labor to benefit a _charity_, can you?"

"I really don't care what you believe or don't believe, Weasley."

"Well, I certainly don't believe that." Ginny paused. "Unless you have an ulterior motive, I suppose."

"When you put it that way, maybe I _do _have an ulterior motive," Draco said, raising his eyebrows. "Maybe I've recently been bitten by the acting bug and have only agreed to help with the restoration in order to assure myself a role in the play."

"Hm," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. "I guess that makes some sense. You always were a bit of a drama queen."

"I like to believe that I have a flair for entrances and exits, if that's what you mean," Draco said lightly.

Ginny wasn't able to respond, because just then, Monty appeared. "Draco, my boy! I'm so glad you made it!"

"Hello, Mr. Bradley," Draco said politely. "I'm happy to help."

Ginny snorted, but neither Draco nor Monty seemed to notice.

"It's Monty! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"I'm sorry, Monty," Draco said contritely. "What do you need me to do?"

"What do you say to starting on the woodwork? We need someone to brew the Regrowth Potions, and I'm sure you'd be a right hand with applying the gilt, eh?"

"I'm certainly willing to try, sir," Draco answered.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Monty boomed, as he steered Draco down the center aisle towards the stage.

"No! It's not excellent," Ginny moaned, flinging herself into a nearby seat and sending up a puff of dust.

"What's wrong with Draco?" Sophie asked.

Ginny looked blankly at Sophie. "He's awful," she said.

"Awful how?" Sophie asked.

"I guess you were too young to see the worst of him in school," Ginny said, sighing, "but you can take my word for it."

"I don't know," Sophie said doubtfully. "I've seen him now and then over the past year or two, and he's always been nice to me."

Ginny shrugged. "You're from a wealthy pure-blooded family, so he probably has no reason to be nasty to _you_."

"I suppose," Sophie said, but she didn't appear to be convinced.

Ginny was about to set her straight, when Sophie shook her head and smiled. "Well, just don't let him bother you, Gin," she said. "Uncle Monty has him working on something totally different, so you probably won't have to see him much at all."

"You're probably right," Ginny said, more cheerfully. "Should we get back to work?"

* * *

Only a small number of the people Monty had recruited to help restore the Serendipity were able to work during the weekdays, and the crew quickly fell into a pattern. Chester and Grant, two very old, very quiet men, worked on repairing the structural damage. (Ginny wondered why this hadn't been done _before_ the other repairs, but nobody else seemed to, so she didn't say anything about it.) Diantha and Crispin, a middle-aged couple who had been at Hogwarts with Monty, were in charge of restoring the woodwork, along with Draco. Michel, a French painter, worked on the ceiling fresco, at least on the days he felt inspired. Ginny and Sophie upholstered the seats. And Monty flitted from project to project, sometimes helping, sometimes getting in the way.

The routine suited Ginny well. She and Sophie had so much fun that it hardly seemed as if they were working at all. The problem came during the breaks. The whole crew would gather in the greenroom backstage, chatting and snacking. Crispin and Michel usually played wizarding chess, Monty would wander around muttering about the upcoming play, and Sophie would sometimes teach Ginny how to cast costuming spells. Much to Ginny's chagrin, Draco would join them.

"Shouldn't you two be training?" Draco asked Ginny and Sophie on the second day of work.

"It's the off-season, Malfoy," Ginny said, sneering at him. "Or are you so out of touch with reality that you forgot?"

"I know it's the off-season, Weasley. I just thought you would want the extra practice, considering your record last season."

"We had a winning record!" Ginny said indignantly.

"Yes, but just barely," Draco said. Then with a smirk, he added, "And with the Falcons signing Brandon Timms, you'll have no chance at all if you keep playing the way you have been."

"Oh, Timms is no problem," Ginny said, waving the idea off with one hand. "He's fast, I'll give you that, but once he gets going he couldn't change direction for a thousand Galleons. So if you really think he'll help your precious Falcons, you're totally deluded."

"I'd rather have Timms on the Falcons than you any day, Weasley," Draco said, still smirking.

"Well, that just shows that you have absolutely no sense of finesse," Ginny said.

"We'll see, Weasley, we'll see," Draco said. He wandered away to check the progress of the chess game.

"Ooh! He makes me so mad!" Ginny said, crumbling the piece of paper she had been doodling costume ideas on. "The nerve of him to insult our playing that way!" She turned to Sophie, who had been suspiciously quiet throughout the whole conversation. "Doesn't it make you mad?"

Sophie shrugged. "We're professional Quidditch players. People insult our playing every day, usually with no good reason except that they support a different team. Draco didn't seem any different to me."

"Not different! But it was _Malfoy_! He's always insulting me, just to get under my skin!"

"Then he seems to have succeeded, hasn't he?" Sophie asked with a smile.

"You're right, damn it!" Ginny said, deflating. "Next time, I won't let him get to me."

* * *

"Are you trying to blind us all, Weasley?" Draco asked a couple of days later.

"Is this the setup for one of those tired old insults about my hair?" Ginny countered. "If so, I've heard them all already."

"While your hair certainly is…eye-catching," Draco said, "I was actually referring to your necklace."

Ginny glared at Draco as her hand covered her necklace protectively. It was a simple silver chain with a flat, circular pendant about two inches in diameter, with pieces of different colored glass arranged in a starburst pattern. It was a little bright, to be sure, but certainly wouldn't blind anyone.

"There's nothing wrong with my necklace, Malfoy," Ginny snarled.

"Maybe not if you're color blind," Draco said.

"The colorfulness only adds to its charm."

"Only you would find _that_ charming."

"Well, I think it's beautiful," Ginny said stubbornly. "And it has sentimental value as well, which is something I'm sure _you_ wouldn't understand!" The necklace had her birthday engraved on the back; the year was wrong, of course, but that hardly mattered to Ginny, who was used to owning things secondhand. What really made it special, though, was that it had been a gift from Fred before he died. It was one of her most prized possessions.

"Even sentiment wouldn't make up for the way it looks," Draco said. "It's gaudy."

"It's not gaudy!" Ginny insisted, her voice squeaking a little.

Draco just raised his eyebrows significantly.

Ginny barely stopped to think. She had seen that same expression on his face before, every time he had taunted her back at Hogwarts, and all she could think about was that this time, she would wipe it right off his face. Her wand was out of her pocket almost before she had completed her thought. "You think my necklace is gaudy, Malfoy? Try this on for size!" She focused all of her energy on the costuming spell she had just learned.

An instant later, Draco stood blinking before Ginny, dressed in acid green boots, orange tights, red and purple striped plus fours, a ruffled magenta shirt which was partially hidden by a blue tailcoat with large orange polka dots, and a bow tie that changed colors every few seconds. All of this was covered entirely in sequins.

Ginny and Sophie both giggled. Draco stood stunned for a moment, before making a show of examining himself carefully in a nearby mirror.

"Not bad for the spur of the moment, Weasley," Draco said, tugging lightly on his lapels. "Not bad at all." Then he cocked his head and added, "But it does seem to be missing something… Aha!"

Suddenly, Draco drew his wand. Ginny flinched, sure he was about to hex her, but instead, he waved it in a circular motion, conjuring a gold sequined top hat. He bowed ostentatiously to Ginny and Sophie, and placed it on his head. "Yes, I think that will do nicely."

Ginny gaped. Perhaps something about the top hat pulled the outlandish outfit together, or maybe it was just the way Draco carried himself, but somehow he looked every bit the distinguished gentleman—if you ignored the colors and sequins, of course.

Draco turned to Ginny and said, "I have to thank you, Weasley. If I can pull off an outfit like this, Monty is sure to cast me in the play." And with a small smile, he swept off to find the director.

It took a minute after Draco had left for Ginny to realize that he hadn't acted at all like she had expected him to. He had actually seemed happy with the way she had dressed him, rather than humiliated. She didn't understand. What would she have to do to make him leave her alone?

* * *

"You're not saying that you actually _like_ Celestina Warbeck, are you?" Ginny asked Sophie incredulously the next day, as they worked on a row of seats near the back of the theater, or the "back of the house", as Monty and Sophie put it.

"Of course!" Sophie retorted. "What's not to like? She's got an amazing voice, and I love the old standards she sings."

"You love the old standards?" Ginny asked. "But they're so _cheesy_."

"Cheesy but brilliant," Sophie said with a smile.

"Hmph," Ginny said. "Give me the Weird Sisters any day."

"I like the Weird Sisters too," Sophie said, "but you have to admit they don't have the same staying power as Celestina."

"I'll admit no such thing! Not unless you torture me into it, that is," Ginny said. "Though making me listen to Celestina for a few hours would probably do the trick!"

"Good morning, girls!" Monty's voice interrupted their laughter. "Good morning!"

"Good morning, Monty," Ginny and Sophie said at the same time, then burst into laughter once more.

"You two always seem to be having so much fun," Monty said wistfully.

"Good company makes the work easier," Sophie said. "Would you like to join us?"

"Sure, if you'll remind me how to do it."

Ginny waved Monty over to the seat she was working on to show him how to upholster the cushion. "Okay," she said, "here's some fabric I've already cut, so you don't need to worry about that. Just fold it like so," —she paused to demonstrate— "and pin it in place."

"Like that?" Monty asked, fumbling with the pins.

"Yes, just like that," Ginny answered, even though he had shifted the fabric in the process, so it was bunched oddly on one side. "Now take the thread in one hand and your wand in the other. The incantation is '_Suere_', and once you say it, you will move both hands along the edge of the fabric where you want the stitches to go."

Ginny watched as Monty sewed a crooked line. She knew she'd have to redo that cushion later, but Monty's look of pride when he finished made the extra work worthwhile.

"I did it!" Monty said with glee when he had finished.

"You did," Ginny said with a smile.

"Sophie was right about you and fabric charms," Monty said approvingly. "And that costuming spell you used on Draco yesterday was fabulous for a first try!"

"Thank you," Ginny said with a grin. "I certainly had fun casting it!"

"The style wasn't quite right for Shakespeare," Monty said, his forehead creasing slightly in concern. "But we can sort out style later."

Ginny had to stifle a laugh at the thought of anyone actually wearing that outfit in a play, or anywhere else for that matter. She reassured Monty by saying, "Oh, that wasn't meant to be for the play, it was just practice."

"Oh good," Monty said with a relieved smile. "Good." He looked around distractedly. "Maybe I'll go see how the woodwork is coming along."

As Monty wandered away, Ginny smiled indulgently and began to pick the stitches out of the cushion he had sewn.

* * *

The day eventually came when Chester and Grant had finished repairing all of the structural damage. To celebrate, Monty insisted on treating the whole weekday crew to tea at one of the fancier tea shops in Diagon Alley. Ginny was happy to have a break. The upholstering was becoming monotonous; she was happy that she could use magic, otherwise it would probably take forever to redo every seat in the theater.

Ginny was less pleased when Draco managed to take the seat across from her in the tea shop. "All this following me around just to annoy me is starting to get old, Malfoy. Is it really necessary?"

"I think it is," Draco said.

"Why? Can't you find someone else to bother?"

"Who else is there? It's either you or Sophie, and she's too calm and collected. She's no fun at all, at least not when it comes to tormenting." He smiled at Sophie, who smiled back.

"So you admit that you're deliberately tormenting me?"

"One must keep one's mind active somehow," Draco said evenly. "Would you like some tea?"

Ginny blinked at the non sequitur, but recovered quickly. "Yes, please."

Draco poured for her, then for himself.

Ginny reached for the sugar, and spooned some into her cup. Looking up, she noticed that there seemed to be a sugar bowl for each pair of people; only she and Draco would be using this particular bowl. She reached into her pocket, covertly clasped her wand, and silently pronounced, "_Dulcisalsus_." Offering the bowl to Draco, she asked sweetly, "Sugar?"

Ginny held her breath as Draco stirred the sugar into his tea and took a sip. She had to stifle a giggle at the way his face twisted at the flavor.

Just then, Ginny saw the waitress approach from the corner of her eye, and momentarily panicked. Now Draco would rant at the poor, innocent witch. Ginny hadn't thought of that before pulling the prank. She braced herself for the onslaught, but Draco surprised her.

"Excuse me," Draco said politely. "There seems to have been a mistake. This contains salt instead of sugar. Could we have fresh cups, please?"

"Certainly, sir," the waitress said. "I'm sorry for the confusion." She whisked away Draco's and Ginny's cups, and a minute later, they had fresh ones.

Draco reached for the sugar bowl in front of Sophie, and put some sugar in his tea. "Would you like some sugar?" he asked Ginny, who, having just taken a plate of tea cakes from Sophie, had her hands full.

"Please," Ginny answered somewhat distractedly, as she examined the cakes to see if she could find one with apricot filling. She handed the plate to Monty, then took a sip of tea—and spat it out again.

Draco was watching her with an innocent, slightly curious expression on his face. "Are you all right?" he asked evenly. "Is there something wrong with the tea?"

It took all of Ginny's self-control not to throw her salty tea in Draco's face.

* * *

Over the next week, Draco continued to antagonize Ginny, and Ginny continued to respond, pulling her wand more and more frequently. Luckily for Draco, he was usually able to dodge her hexes. She did manage to hit him once, however, with _Tarantallegra_.

Ginny, Sophie, Monty, Diantha, and Crispin all laughed as Draco danced crazily around the greenroom.

"Are you going to cast the countercurse?" Draco asked Ginny after a while.

"Oh, no," Ginny answered, pocketing her wand. "Watching you like that is way too much fun!"

After that, Draco seemed to concentrate on controlling his movements as much as possible. Eventually, he managed to work his way very close to where Ginny was standing.

"Dance with me," Draco said.

"No, thank you," Ginny answered, stifling a giggle.

"That wasn't a question," he answered, surprising her by sweeping her into his arms.

It was all Ginny could do to keep up with the fast pace of Draco's legs. She nearly tripped many times, and sometimes he was forced to drag her around the floor. It was only Draco's tight grip on her that kept her from falling.

"Sophie!" Ginny called. "Cast the countercurse!"

"Oh, no!" Draco said, laughing. "Don't do it, Sophie! Ginny got herself into this, she'll have to get herself out of it!"

Sophie either agreed with Draco or was enjoying the spectacle or both, because she didn't raise her wand to help, and started laughing even harder than before.

With a groan of frustration, Ginny wiggled in Draco's grip, trying to reach the wand in her pocket. It took a few minutes of concentrated effort, but she was finally able to put an end to the dance.

Once he and Ginny were safely on their feet, Draco collapsed into a chair. "Whew!" he said. "That was quite a workout. Even better than Quidditch, don't you think?"

Ginny just glared at him.

* * *

"Why do you think Malfoy is always bothering us?" Ginny asked Sophie one day after they had traded insults about each other's Herbology skills, of all things.

"Don't you mean why is he always bothering _you_?" Sophie replied. "I don't really mind him."

"That just shows you're mental," Ginny said exasperatedly. "But really, why do you think he does it?"

Sophie eyed Ginny for a moment. "I think he's like a moth to a flame, or like Icarus to the sun. I'm not sure he can help it."

"Well, he'd better help it if he doesn't want to get burned!" Ginny said indignantly, making a mental note to try a Stinging Hex next time.

"That's not what I meant at all," Sophie said.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I think he fancies you."

Ginny stared at Sophie for a moment, then burst into laughter. Once she had calmed herself, she said, "That's the funniest thing you've said in months!"

"I was serious," Sophie said.

"But that's ridiculous!" Ginny protested. "We've never gotten along in our lives!"

Sophie shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. But I think he acts that way on purpose—that he likes the way you react. You're the only one he treats that way, after all."

"I'm not the only one," Ginny said, thinking of Harry, Hermione, and her brothers.

"Just think about it," Sophie said, standing up to go back to work.

"Sure," Ginny said in the most sarcastic tone she could muster. "Sure, I'll think about it." But she knew she wouldn't—it was too ludicrous an idea to contemplate.

* * *

As the restoration work progressed, talk turned more and more to the production of _Much Ado About Nothing_. Ginny wasn't interested in a role in the play, so she hadn't attended the auditions Monty had held over the weekend, but she was as curious as everyone else about the casting. But Draco seemed to be the most curious of all.

"Come on, Monty," Draco wheedled Monday afternoon. "You're going to have to tell me eventually, so you might as well just do it now and avoid having me annoy you incessantly about it."

"Impatient, aren't you?" Monty asked with a chuckle. "Fine, then. I've already told Sophie she's to be Beatrice."

"Does that mean I got Benedick?" Draco asked hopefully.

"No," Monty mumbled. "You're Don John."

Much to Ginny's delight, Draco seemed to deflate. She gleefully asked, "Typecasting, Monty?"

"Typecasting?" Monty asked, confused. "From what I've seen, Draco's more a Benedick type than a villain." He turned to Draco, and added, "I'm sorry, you know. But you're just a little too stiff still to pull off Benedick, and the stiffness won't hurt with Don John—it actually might help him seem more antisocial and villainous."

"Oh, well, I guess that's okay then," Draco said, clearly disappointed. After a moment, he added, "At least you didn't cast me as Claudio."

Monty laughed. "I'd cast you as Benedick before Claudio!" he said. "You'll need a _lot_ more experience before you can pull off the lovesick hero!"

Ginny tried to picture Draco in a role like that and giggled. "Malfoy lovesick? That'd be the day!" she said.

Draco gave Ginny such an intense look that she decided it was time to get back to work.

* * *

"Ginny!" Ron bellowed as she left the theater that night. He engulfed her in a hug. "It's been ages! Harry and I are taking you to dinner, and you don't have any choice in the matter!"

"I don't, do I?" Ginny asked wryly. "Then it's a good thing I don't have any other plans, isn't it?" She took Ron's arm and happily followed Harry down the street.

"I think I see you even less now than I did during the Quidditch season," Ron said to Ginny once they had settled into a booth at the Leaky Cauldron. "You seem to spend all your time cooped up in that old theater."

"Look who's talking, Mr. Fancy Auror," Ginny teased.

"I guess I am pretty busy too," Ron said with a mixture of sheepishness and pride. "But it's still strange not to see you during the off-season. Last year, I couldn't get rid of you."

Ginny and Ron smiled at each other. "I'd rather be doing anything at all other than knocking around my empty flat with nothing to do but follow _you_ around," she said. "Plus, working on the theater is for a good cause, and even better, it's lots of fun!"

"I suppose that makes sense," Ron said dubiously.

"It makes perfect sense," Ginny said. "After all, _I_ said it."

"And you've never said anything foolish in your life," Ron deadpanned.

"Never," Ginny said, grinning. After a pause, she asked, "You _will_ come to the play once we finish, won't you?"

"For you, anything, Gin," Ron said gallantly. "Don't I go to your games when you know I'd much rather be watching the Cannons?"

"Yes, Ron," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "We all know what sacrifices you make!"

"And I can always sleep through the play, after all," Ron said cheekily.

"You wouldn't dare!" Ginny said, swatting Ron on the arm.

"Are you going to be in the play, Ginny?" Harry asked, joining the conversation for the first time.

"Oh, no!" Ginny said. "I can't imagine having all those eyes on me and no broomstick in my hands! But Malfoy's going to be in it, so it might be worth going just to see that!"

"Malfoy?" Ron asked suspiciously. "How did _he_ get a role?"

"He's also been helping with the restoration," Ginny answered. "He's been damn annoying too."

"What's the slimy ferret done, Ginny?" Ron asked, nearly growling.

"Oh, the usual taunts and whatnot," Ginny said evenly.

"I don't like that he's been around you so much."

"It's nothing I can't handle, Ron," Ginny soothed.

"I don't think you have to worry, Ron," Harry said. "He's not the same as he was at Hogwarts. Not really."

"You're just saying that because you saved his life, and if you admitted he's still evil, it would make you look like a fool," Ron said ungraciously.

"No, I don't think so," Harry said thoughtfully. "You don't go through what he did during the war and after without taking a good long look at your life. He did that, and came out much better for it. I have a lot of respect for him now."

"Respect?" Ron asked. "He's a git!"

"He's spending his days volunteering for a charity. Would the old Malfoy do that?" Harry posed.

"Ah!" Ginny interjected. "But he has an ulterior motive for that! He told me so! He's only doing it so he'd be guaranteed a role in the play."

"Like when his father bought all those broomsticks for the Slytherin team!" Ron said gleefully.

"If you say so," Harry said, sighing. "Can we talk about something else?" And they did.

* * *

"Ooh! Who brought tea?" Ginny asked the next day, as she examined the cakes and sandwiches spread out on a table in the greenroom.

"My mum did," Sophie said, coming up behind Ginny. "She's worried that Monty is so focused on the theater that he's not eating enough, so she's decided to make sure he has no excuse to avoid it."

"What, does she think he's losing weight or something?" Ginny asked, dubiously eyeing the corpulent director.

Sophie shrugged. "Half the time, I don't know _what_ she's thinking, but I'm not going to complain about this," she said, reaching for a sandwich.

"Me neither!" Ginny said, examining the pile of cakes.

"Are you looking for one with apricot?" Draco asked, holding up a cake.

"Yes, thank you!" Ginny said, reaching for the cake.

"That's too bad, then," Draco said, taking a large bite out of it. "I'm pretty sure that was the last."

"Slimy ferret!" Ginny said, Ron's phrase coming suddenly into her mind.

"You know, I've never really understood that insult of your brother's," Draco said conversationally, taking another bite of the apricot-filled cake.

"It's… because… you… were… turned… into… a… ferret," Ginny said very slowly, as if speaking to a slightly dim child. One of Ginny's greatest regrets was that she had missed the incident, but her friends who had managed to see it had gleefully told her the story over and over again.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid, Weasley. I understand _that_ much. It's the slimy part I don't understand. After all, ferrets aren't slimy."

"I think it's supposed to be metaphorical," Ginny said condescendingly. "Of course, it's always possible that you actually _were_ slimy as a ferret." As she said that, she reached for her wand. "But I guess we could always find out, couldn't we?"

There was a loud BANG! and a pure white ferret lay twitching where Draco had been standing.

Ginny laughed, then used her wand to lift ferret-Draco up, and let him bounce off the floor three or four times. "This is even funnier than I imagined!" she said happily. When the ferret squealed after the next bounce, Ginny laughed even louder.

"Ginny! What are you doing?" Sophie's startled voice interrupted Ginny's laughter.

"Isn't it hilarious?" Ginny asked, letting the ferret rest on the floor. She looked around at the rest of the crew, none of whom were laughing. Indeed, everyone was staring aghast at her. "Come on," she said. "We were just performing an experiment to see whether Malfoy is a slimy ferret or not." She turned to Draco, who had returned to his usual form, but still lay prone on the floor. "And you were right, Malfoy. There was no sign of slime."

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw the others rush to Draco's side, but she didn't think too much about it. Instead, she went back to upholstering seats in the balcony, giggling intermittently to herself as she remembered Draco as a bouncing ferret. She didn't notice that Sophie never returned to help her that day.


	2. Part II

**Serendipity**

**Part II**

Ginny whistled to herself as she entered the theater the next morning. She had woken up in an extremely good mood, and it hadn't dimmed, even after a sudden rainstorm had caught her unawares as she walked through Diagon Alley. After casting a quick drying charm on her clothes and hair, Ginny waved cheerily to Diantha, who had entered the lobby shortly after she had. She frowned slightly when Diantha turned away from her, but then dismissed the incident, assuming that the older woman hadn't seen her. Resuming her whistling, Ginny climbed to the third floor, where the only seats that still needed upholstering resided.

When a few hours passed without Sophie arriving to help or Monty to greet her, Ginny began to wonder if something was wrong. She stood up to stretch and looked out into the theater. Monty was on the stage, waving his arms and muttering to himself, and Michel was on his floating platform, putting the finishing touches on the ceiling fresco. Ginny heard Sophie's laughter from below, then spotted her with Diantha and Crispin, working on the woodwork in one of the first floor boxes.

That was odd. Sophie had never helped with the woodwork before, as far as Ginny could remember; that was Draco's role. She shrugged her shoulders; she'd find out what was going on at the break. But after that, Ginny's good mood dissipated, and she worked restlessly by herself for the rest of the morning.

During the break, nobody talked to Ginny, not even Sophie. Crispin even reached across her for the salt shaker instead of asking her to pass it. After sitting alone for about ten minutes, Ginny admitted to herself that she wasn't imagining their reactions. The others really were avoiding her, but she had no idea why. It was extremely disconcerting.

"The seats and I missed you this morning," Ginny said, approaching Sophie with a smile.

Ginny was relieved when Sophie didn't turn away as Diantha had earlier, but was a little concerned when she didn't smile either. "You're quite capable of handling the rest of them by yourself," Sophie said shortly. "I'm helping Diantha and Crispin since Draco couldn't come today."

"Where's Malfoy, then?" Ginny asked. Distracted from her concerns about the others' behavior by her memories of yesterday's spectacle, she laughed. "Was he too ashamed to show his face here after yesterday?"

"What's wrong with you, Ginny?" Sophie asked, a vaguely disgusted look on her face.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, confused by Sophie's cold tone; she hadn't heard anything like it in the two years she'd known Sophie.

"I never thought you were the kind of person to laugh at another person's pain," Sophie said plainly.

"Pain?" Ginny asked, bewildered. "I wasn't laughing at anyone's pain, just at the prank I pulled on Malfoy yesterday."

"You were _just_ laughing at the prank?" Sophie asked, her eyebrows disappearing into her fringe. "Did you never stop to think about its consequences?"

"It was a harmless prank!" Ginny defended.

"Harmless!" Sophie said harshly. "You really thought that was _harmless_?" Ginny was silent in the face of her friend's unusual onslaught. "Poor Draco had to spend the night in St. Mungo's with two broken ribs and a concussion!"

"St. Mungo's?" Ginny asked shakily. Her mind was spinning. Suddenly dizzy, she sunk helplessly into a nearby chair. "I had no idea. I never thought…"

"No," Sophie said bitterly. "It's clear that you never thought about it."

"Is he going to be all right?" Ginny asked after a moment, wracked with guilt. She'd never sent anyone to the hospital before, at least not by anything she'd done deliberately. At that thought, she was overcome by a sudden bout of nausea, and put her head quickly between her knees.

"Yes, he'll be fine," Sophie said, almost gently; she seemed to be much calmer after seeing Ginny's reaction. "But the Healers insisted he rest all day today."

"Good," Ginny said weakly. "I… Will you… Will you tell everyone I'm sorry?" Her voice was plaintive. "I think I need to go home."

* * *

Ginny managed to stumble her way down Diagon Alley and let herself safely into her flat. She was so distracted by her churning thoughts that it was a near thing. She made tea, but as soon as she stirred in the sugar, she thought of salt. She was overcome by another bout of nausea that only passed after she poured the whole pot down the sink.

After that, Ginny stood in her kitchen, staring blindly at her cabinets, thinking about what had happened. No, not what had happened, what she had done. She had turned her wand on a man, and caused enough damage to send him to the hospital. She had broken his bones. And she had thought it was _funny_. Granted, she had never intended to hurt him, not physically at least. But that didn't change the fact that she had done it.

Ginny shuddered. She had always thought of herself as a good person—brave, noble, fierce—the perfect Gryffindor. She had seen everything she had done through that filter. Every prank she had pulled had been good-natured; every hex she had thrown had been well-deserved; she had never really hurt anyone. Or so she had told herself. She'd been lying to herself the whole time, justifying her behavior in her own mind. But now she knew the truth. She had hurt someone badly, and for what?

Sure, Draco had provoked her, but had he really deserved broken bones for it? Ginny thought back over their interactions at the theater, and felt her knees grow weak with realization. She dragged herself into the sitting room and collapsed on the sofa, burying her head in her hands.

Draco had antagonized her, yes, but in retrospect, he had treated her much better than she had treated him. He had never responded in anger, had never pulled his wand. Instead, Draco had always seemed to be able to turn Ginny's hexes against her somehow, so the joke was on her as much as on him. She smiled slightly as she thought of the way he had worn the costume she had adorned him with, the salted tea, their _Tarantallegra_ dance. His responses had infuriated her at the time, but looking back, they had been clever and downright funny. If Draco had been anyone else, if it weren't for their shared past, Ginny would have thought their skirmishes to be almost friendly.

Ginny froze. Did Draco think they were friendly? Had she been the only one carrying a grudge? No, that couldn't be true—he insulted her much the same way as he had at Hogwarts. Or had he? Had she judged Draco unfairly based on their past? Had he really changed? Everyone at the theater seemed to think so. Even Harry thought so. What was she missing?

At first, Ginny drew a blank, thinking she must have been right all along, but then she realized that she had already noticed a sign that something was different. Draco had never hexed her, even when she had hexed him first, even though he wouldn't have thought twice about doing so at Hogwarts. For that matter, he had never expressed anger in any way whatsoever; if he had been angry, he must have amazing self-control. Or be an absolutely amazing actor, and she knew he wasn't that. If he was, Monty would have had no qualms about casting him as Benedick, as Draco had asked. But Draco hadn't threatened Monty, or even tried to talk him into changing his mind. For that matter, he hadn't even complained once about doing the manual labor required for the restoration project—the charity project he had willingly volunteered for. And most telling of all, though Ginny hadn't even noticed it at the time, he hadn't even blinked when Michel mentioned he was Muggleborn.

Oh, Merlin, Ginny thought, as she realized she didn't need to go any farther. Draco really had changed. And she had been too blind to see it. She'd allowed her own prejudices to blind her, and because of that, she had done him a great injustice. And that was true even without considering that she had put him in the hospital yesterday. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of it. Nobody deserved that.

Ginny burst into tears. She wasn't the person she had thought she was, and the revelation was bitter. She stayed where she was on the sofa, her self-reproach repeating itself over and over in her head. She didn't notice when the light faded from the room; she didn't care.

* * *

Ginny arrived at the theater much earlier than usual the next day, determined to apologize to Draco as soon as he arrived. As she walked from the lobby into the house, she walked right into Monty, who was standing there, staring at the ceiling below the balcony.

"Oh!" Ginny said, "I'm so sorry!"

"No, no, my fault," Monty said. "I shouldn't have been standing just there."

Ginny took one look at Monty's contrite face and all of the past day's stress came crashing down around her. She burst into tears and threw herself into the director's arms.

"There, there," Monty said, patting Ginny awkwardly on the back. "There's no need to cry."

"I'm just so sorry, Monty!" Ginny said, sobbing.

"What for?" Monty asked, confused. "I was the one standing in the way."

"Not for that," Ginny said. "For… for what I did to Draco. I was awful! Draco didn't deserve that. I shouldn't have let my own feelings get so out of control. And I was so wrong about him too!"

"Now, now," Monty said reassuringly. "Draco's going to be just fine, from what I've heard, so don't you fret."

Ginny composed herself as much as possible. "Thanks, Monty," she said. "Would you mind horribly if I don't start working right away? I want to apologize to Draco as soon as he comes in, if that's okay."

"Fine, fine," Monty said, pulling a large red handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to Ginny. "The seats can wait. They're almost all done anyway. Take as much time as you need."

"Thank you," Ginny said quietly. She blew her nose noisily, performed a quick _Scourgify_, and handed the handkerchief back. "I think I'll wait for Draco in the lobby."

Ginny waited anxiously, trailing her fingers in the pool of the newly restored fountain, under the watchful eyes of the three princes and their camel. It seemed to take forever for anybody to arrive, but when she consulted her watch, she saw that it wasn't yet the time they usually started work.

When the doors finally opened, Ginny stood up so quickly, she nearly fell into the water. Much to her chagrin, two figures stepped into the lobby instead of one. Crispin and Diantha both nodded to her, but didn't say hello. Ginny sighed as they passed into the theater. She would need to regain their respect, she supposed, but at least their reception was warmer than it had been the day before.

After a few more minutes, the door opened once more and Draco stepped into the room. He froze in place for a moment when he saw Ginny, then moved as if to brush past her, without giving her a second glance.

Draco was nearly to the door into the main theater when Ginny composed herself enough to speak. "Draco, I…" she began.

Draco whirled around so quickly and ferociously that Ginny took a tiny step backwards. "Don't," he said forcefully. "Don't say a thing."

"But I…"

"No!" Draco interrupted. "Don't say a thing. I don't need you to rub it in."

"I'm s—" Ginny began, desperate to apologize, but before she could say any more, Draco had his wand out and at pointed at her.

"I said I didn't want to hear it," he ground out. "And I'll silence you by force if I have to."

Ginny hung her head. He wasn't going to let her apologize. And worse, the way he was treating her was so different than he had acted recently, that it showed with brutal clarity just how wrong she had been. He was acting as he had at Hogwarts, but with one major difference—this time she deserved it.

"You have everyone fooled, don't you?" Draco asked bitterly. "Everyone thinks you're so perfect, so kind, but when it comes down to it, you're just a coldhearted bully. At least _Moody_ didn't break any of my bones. And to top it all off, you're a common thief as well."

Thief? Ginny lifted her head quickly, confusion written across her face. She was careful not to say anything this time, however—she was sure Draco's threat to silence her had not been idle.

"Pretending innocence, are you?" Draco asked viciously. "I'm surprised Monty didn't cast you in the play with the way you can act."

Ginny creased her brows questioningly.

"All right," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "If you insist on the act, I'll play along. When I returned home from the hospital yesterday," —Ginny blushed at the thought of what she had done to him— "my mother needlessly insisted I stay in her wing, so she would be close by if I took a turn for the worse. She put me in a room I hadn't seen before, under the watchful eyes of a portrait of my grandmother Malfoy."

Draco paused here, as if this should mean something to Ginny, but she was more confused than ever.

"Imagine my surprise," Draco continued, "when I saw my grandmother wearing the same necklace you wear all the time. The gaudy one. It just _happens_ to be a Malfoy family heirloom! I can hardly believe you'd have the gall to wear it in front of me after stealing it. Though, considering what I've seen of you the past couple of days, I wouldn't be surprised if _that_ was why you claimed it held sentimental value."

Ginny was stunned. Her necklace, the one Fred had given her, was a Malfoy family heirloom? Then how did Fred come to have it? She couldn't believe he had stolen it—he would have bragged about doing so if he had. She sat down hard on the edge of the fountain, and looked helplessly up at Draco.

"Do you really hate me that much, Weasley?" Draco asked. His voice was so quiet, though, that Ginny almost didn't hear it. She was about to respond with an apology and explanation—whether he hexed her for it or not. But then he turned his back on her, and walked into the theater, leaving a shocked and shaking Ginny behind him.

* * *

Once Ginny had recovered enough to stand, she sought out Monty to make her excuses. "I… er… there's something I have to do right away," she mumbled, averting her eyes. "I'll come back later to finish the seats, I promise." She was determined to return the necklace to Narcissa Malfoy; she might not be able to atone for what she had done on Tuesday, but this was one thing she could put right.

"Don't worry, my dear," Monty said with concern. "Do what you need to do. I'll set Sophie to working on them when she gets here."

After a brief stop at her flat to retrieve the necklace and check the exact location of Malfoy Manor, Ginny took a deep breath and Apparated to Wiltshire. She appeared in a narrow lane, not far from a set of elaborate wrought iron gates, decorated with leaves, flowers, and strange gargoyle-like faces. She examined the gates, wondering how to open them, or to attract the attention of someone in the house. There didn't seem to be anything to indicate how it was done. After a few minutes, Ginny shook the gate in frustration. Was everything conspiring to keep her from doing the right thing?

As soon as Ginny touched the gate, however, the centermost face began to twitch. It stretched itself this way and that before saying, "State your name and business," in a bored voice.

"Er, my name is Ginevra Weasley," she said nervously. "I've come to see Mrs. Malfoy, if she's available."

"I will inquire," the face said, going still once more.

Nothing happened for so long that Ginny began to think that she had been forgotten. She readjusted her cloak against the chill, and wondered if she should just give up on returning the necklace, but then the gate opened suddenly, allowing her to step into a long hedge-lined drive. She took a deep breath and moved forward.

After a while, Ginny caught sight of the house; its size and elegance didn't surprise her, but neither did they help calm her nerves. As she approached, the front door swung open of its own accord. She stepped into the house, and caught a glimpse of rich carpet, marble statuary, and gilt picture frames that reminded her of the theater lobby, but her attention was soon drawn to a tall blonde woman who had stepped into the hallway: Narcissa Malfoy.

"Good day, Miss Weasley," Narcissa said, leading the way into a richly furnished drawing room. "How kind of you to visit."

"Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice," Ginny said, forcing herself to look at her hostess rather than gape at her surroundings.

"Would you care for some tea?" Narcissa asked.

"Yes, please," Ginny answered, reasoning that drinking tea would at least give her something to do with her hands besides fidget.

A tray appeared immediately, holding not only tea, but scones, apricot jam, and clotted cream as well. Ginny received her share gratefully, using the food as an excuse not to look at Narcissa.

"Draco tells me that you have been working with him at the theater," Narcissa said.

"Yes," Ginny said quietly. "I've mostly been working on the upholstery, and he's been working on the woodwork, though." She looked down at her hands. Draco was just about the last subject she wanted to discuss with his _mother_.

"I see," Narcissa said. "The work is progressing satisfactorily, I trust?"

"Yes, quite satisfactorily," Ginny answered, smiling a little for the first time. "We're nearly finished with the restoration, and then we can begin on the play."

"I'm very much looking forward to the play," Narcissa said, "especially since Draco will be in it. What role are you to play?"

"Oh! I'm not actually going to have a role," Ginny answered. "I'm just helping with the costumes."

"Yes, I have heard about your talent with costuming spells," Narcissa said with a hint of a smile.

Ginny blushed, and bent once more over her scone. It was clear that Draco had told his mother about the costume incident. She wondered what else he had told her.

"I suppose working at the theater doesn't leave you much time for other amusements," Narcissa continued.

"No, not really," Ginny said. "But it's nice to have something to do when I'm not playing Quidditch, so that doesn't bother me too much."

It was becoming clear that Narcissa was too polite to ask why Ginny had appeared on her doorstep. Ginny was going to have to bring the subject up herself, and the sooner the better. She wasn't sure how much more small talk she could endure, especially if Draco was going to continue to feature in it.

Ginny took a deep breath and set her tea cup aside. She looked up at Narcissa and said, "I came today because I think I may have something that rightfully belongs to you."

"Oh?" Narcissa asked, her curiosity now blatantly displayed.

Ginny reached into her pocket and pulled out the necklace. She held it in her hand briefly, a sad smile on her face as she looked at it for one last time, then she handed it to Narcissa.

Narcissa examined the necklace, turning it over to read the date engraved on the back, before looking up at Ginny. "May I ask how this came to be in your possession?" she asked evenly.

"Well, I didn't steal it, whatever your son may have told you," Ginny answered, more harshly than she had intended.

Narcissa raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Draco has said nothing to me of this necklace," Narcissa said. "If he had, I would have assured him that you certainly couldn't have stolen it, as it was lost well before you could have been born."

"I'm sorry," Ginny said shakily. "I didn't mean to imply anything about Draco. I was just so surprised when he accused me of stealing it."

"I can't imagine Draco accusing you of any such thing," Narcissa said lightly.

"Well, I haven't given him much reason to think well of me," Ginny said blushing furiously.

Narcissa looked curious. "That's not the impression he gave me," she said, clearly hoping that Ginny would say more.

Ginny was surprised. She was sure Draco would have told his mother that she was the one who injured him on Tuesday, but either he hadn't, or Narcissa was much more forgiving than she would ever have expected. What could that mean?

Before Ginny could fully follow that line of thought, Narcissa interrupted by clearing her throat gently. "You haven't answered my question," she said quietly but firmly.

"Question?" Ginny asked, confused.

"About how you obtained this necklace," Narcissa answered.

"Oh!" Ginny said. "I'm sorry. It was a gift from my brother Fred on my sixteenth birthday. He told me that he found it in one of the thrift stores in Diagon Alley. It was tarnished and the clasp was broken, but it had my birthday already engraved on the back. He thought that was too good a coincidence to pass up, so he bought it, fixed the clasp, and cleaned it up for me."

"I see," Narcissa said, looking at the necklace once more. "Your birthday is the eleventh of August, then?"

Ginny nodded.

"And Fred," Narcissa continued. "He is the brother you… lost at Hogwarts, is that right?"

"Yes," Ginny said. "It made the necklace even more special."

"I can see that it would," Narcissa said quietly. Ginny was surprised to see that she seemed genuinely sympathetic.

There was a long pause as both women contemplated the necklace in Narcissa's hands. After a while, Ginny asked, "It is yours, then? A family heirloom?"

"Yes," Narcissa said. "It belonged to my mother-in-law. My father-in-law gave it to her in honor of the day they learned she was carrying Lucius, after many years of failed attempts to have children."

"August 11, 1953?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Narcissa confirmed. "This necklace was a great favorite of my mother-in-law's, partly because she associated it with such happy news. She even wore it while sitting for one of her portraits. But one day, she wore it to Diagon Alley, and when she returned home, it was gone. I suppose from what you've told me today, the clasp must have broken."

"I'm sorry to have kept it for so long," Ginny said. "I would have brought it to you sooner, but I only found out it was yours today."

"I understand," Narcissa reassured. "It's very kind of you to return it at all."

"It was the right thing to do," Ginny said. "I couldn't keep it, knowing it wasn't rightfully mine, as much as I love it."

"I've never cared for the necklace, personally," Narcissa said. "I always found it too… colorful, myself."

Ginny stifled a grin. At least she had the grace not to call the necklace gaudy!

"If I were the only one to consider," Narcissa continued, "I would allow you to keep it. But I do have to keep Draco's future wife in mind." Ginny's breath caught unexpectedly at this comment, but she didn't have time to examine why, because Narcissa was still speaking. "And considering both its sentimental and monetary value, I couldn't really deprive her of her rightful inheritance just because of my personal taste."

"Monetary value?" Ginny asked, confused. "But it's made of glass!"

Narcissa looked up quickly. "I can assure you," she said, her lips twitching up on one side, "that every one of these stones is genuine."

"Genuine?" Ginny asked, dumbfounded. "Do you mean genuine _gemstones_?"

"Of course!" Narcissa answered. Ginny got the distinct impression that Narcissa was shocked that she could think a Malfoy might wear anything less.

"But Fred only paid five Sickles for it!"

"Five Sickles!" Narcissa said, astonished. "But that's absurd!" She raised her hand quickly to cover her mouth. Ginny wasn't sure, but considering the gleam in her eye, she thought the older woman might be stifling a laugh.

Unfortunately, Ginny wasn't lucky enough to be able to stifle her own. The thought that for years, she had worn a necklace that was probably worth more than she paid in rent for an entire year, and had never known it, combined with the stress of the past few days, caused her to fall into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Several minutes later, when she was able to control herself again, she choked out, "I'm so sorry!"

Narcissa smiled at her. "There's no need to apologize. The whole situation really is quite amusing."

"Not _that_ amusing!" Ginny said, with a wide grin, just barely holding off another giggle fit.

"That's as may be," Narcissa said. "But it would be the height of rudeness for me to say otherwise, especially after you have done this family such a great service by returning this necklace."

"I'm glad I did, especially now that I know its true value," Ginny said, rising to her feet. "And now that I have, I should probably get back to the theater. I'm afraid I haven't been much help the past few days."

"Thank you very much for coming today," Narcissa said, standing and leading the way into the entrance hall.

"It was my pleasure," Ginny said, smiling.

"I hope you'll visit again soon," Narcissa said kindly.

Ginny thought Narcissa might even mean what she said, and was amazed by it. What would induce a Malfoy to invite a Weasley into her home? In any event, Narcissa's reasons hardly mattered. As soon as she found out that Ginny had caused Draco's injuries, she was sure to rescind the welcome. "Perhaps," Ginny responded noncommittally. "Thank you for the tea."

As Ginny turned away from the house and began the walk down the drive, she had no idea that four eyes watched her until she was out of sight.

* * *

Ginny walked slowly down the drive, overcome by a strange sense of loss. She didn't really understand it. She had never spoken to Narcissa Malfoy before, and she had hated Draco until the day before. So why did leaving Malfoy Manor seem so final? Why did she feel as if she had lost her best friend? When she reached the gate, Ginny turned to look back, but the house was no longer visible. She pushed open the gate, and Apparated to Diagon Alley, just outside the Serendipity Theater.

The theater was dark when Ginny stepped inside. With a wave of her wand, Ginny lit the grand chandelier, and her breath caught. The woodwork gleamed and the velvet shone brighter than she had ever seen it before. The whole effect was far more beautiful than Ginny had imagined on the first day she had seen the decrepit space.

The others must have finished the work while she was with Narcissa. Ginny walked slowly towards the stage. She sat on the edge so she could see the full effect of the renovations. The theater was lovely, and she'd helped make it that way. She should have felt a strong sense of accomplishment, but it was dimmed by a dull hollowness. She couldn't forget what she had done to Draco, and that tarnished the whole experience. She sighed; she would still help with the costumes for the play—she had agreed to do that and would not break her word—she would just have to take extra care to keep out of Draco's way as much as she could.

Ginny's thoughts were interrupted when the lobby door opened and Draco stepped into the theater. She sat perfectly still, hoping to avoid his notice. The last thing she wanted at the moment was a repeat of that morning's confrontation. Much to Ginny's chagrin, Draco saw her immediately. He didn't even bother to look around at the newly restored theater as he walked towards her. She tensed, wondering what he would say to her this time.

Draco surprised Ginny by sitting down next to her on the edge of the stage. For a few moments, he quietly watched his feet as they dangled below him. "I'm sorry."

Ginny looked at him incredulously. "You're sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?" she asked.

"For accusing you of stealing my grandmother's necklace," Draco said evenly.

Ginny looked at him blankly.

"It wasn't fair of me to jump to conclusions," Draco continued. "I should have talked to my mother first."

"Wait, let me get this straight," Ginny said skeptically. "_You _are apologizing to _me_ for jumping to conclusions?"

"That's what I said, yes," Draco answered.

"After I did the same thing to you for weeks, with much worse consequences?"

"What you may or may not have done is immaterial," Draco answered. "I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment, and I was wrong, so I owe you an apology."

Ginny stared at Draco for a moment, then buried her face in her hands, embarrassed by just how badly she had misjudged him. "Oh, Merlin, I've been such an idiot!"

"I think I'll refrain from commenting on that, if it's all the same to you," Draco said wryly.

Ginny looked up to see Draco smiling a little at her. Reassured, she took a deep breath and said, "I'm the one who should apologize to you. I totally misjudged you. I assumed you were the same as you were at Hogwarts, and didn't even stop to look at you as you are now. And I used to think I was such a fair person." She paused, shaking her head ruefully. "And what I did on Tuesday… There was no excuse for that. No excuse at all. So I'm sorry, and I hope you can bring yourself to forgive me some day."

"I can't say that the whole experience wasn't painful and humiliating," Draco said. Ginny's heart plummeted until he added, "But after you talked to my mother today—"

Ginny was surprised enough to interrupt. "Your mother already told you about that?" she asked. "But I only left your house half an hour ago!"

"She didn't have to tell me," Draco said.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked.

"I mean that I heard the whole conversation for myself," Draco said calmly. "I was in the next room the whole time."

"You eavesdropped on us?" Ginny asked, agape.

"What did you expect?" Draco asked ironically. "I may not be the same boy I was at Hogwarts, but I haven't changed _that_ much."

"I expected you to be _here_, helping with the woodwork!"

"After I left you in the lobby, I found Monty and begged off, claiming a headache," Draco explained. "You have to admit it was a plausible excuse."

Ginny blushed. "I guess so," she said. "And you heard our whole conversation?"

"All of it," Draco confirmed.

Ginny sat still for a moment, trying to remember if she had said anything she would rather he not have heard. She couldn't think of anything, but one part of her conversation with Narcissa did stand out. "You didn't tell your mother that I was the one who hexed you on Tuesday," she said.

"No, I didn't," Draco said simply.

"Why not?" Ginny asked. If someone had done something similar to her, she wouldn't have been able to keep quiet about it.

Draco looked away. "I'm not really sure why not," he said quietly. "I guess I just didn't want her to know how wrong I had been."

"How wrong you had been about what?" Ginny asked, equally quietly.

"About you," Draco answered. "I think that's what hurt the most about Tuesday—realizing that you didn't really see me, just the boy from Hogwarts."

"I'm sorry," Ginny began.

Draco didn't let her continue. "As I was saying before we got sidetracked, after hearing some of the things you and my mother said today, I came to a number of realizations. One of them was that not only was I wrong about the necklace, I also share the blame for the rest of it. So of course I forgive you; it would be rather hypocritical of me not to, don't you think?"

"But you don't share the blame at all!" Ginny protested. "It was all my fault! I was so blind!"

"Yes, you were mistaken about me," Draco said, "but I'm responsible for not setting you straight. I could have stopped egging you on, given you more reason to see that I didn't really hate you, but I was too busy being mistaken about _you_." He smirked ironically. "I actually thought you were flirting back."

Ginny gasped in surprise. "You were flirting with me?" she asked. But then she remembered Sophie's suggestion that Draco fancied her; it had seemed so incredible at the time, but apparently she had been right.

"Shamelessly," Draco said, smirking. "Does that bother you?"

Ginny's first instinct was to say, "Yes!". But she had acted on her instincts too often when it came to Draco. Instead, she paused to give the question serious consideration. What if she hadn't known Draco before? What if she had met him for the first time at the theater? What would she have thought of him then?

The answer came to her along with a fluttering feeling in her stomach. She would have thought he had a brilliant sense of humor. She would have provoked him just to see what he would do. She _would_ have recognized that he was flirting with her. And it wouldn't have bothered her in the least.

"To be honest, no, it doesn't bother me," Ginny answered, blushing scarlet. "Not now, anyway."

"Really?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Would it bother you if I continued to flirt with you?"

Ginny looked at Draco, noticing for the first time just how handsome he really was, with his strong frame and aristocratic features—he was handsome and funny and he still seemed to like her despite everything she had done to him. She felt genuinely happy for the first time in two days. "No," she said, smiling. "And if you're lucky, I might just flirt back."

"Might you?" Draco asked, one side of his mouth turning up in a half smile. "In that case, would I be pushing it if I asked you to join me for dinner tonight?"

"I don't know," Ginny said mischievously. "Are you sure I won't hex you again?"

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Draco said. "Haven't you noticed that I find a willingness to hex me when I deserve it attractive in a woman?"

Ginny laughed, amazed at how comfortable she felt with Draco now. "In that case," she said, "I'd be happy to have dinner with you, and I'll be sure to keep my wand handy."

"By all means," Draco said, smiling. There was a long pause, then he asked more seriously, "Can I ask one more thing of you?"

"You can _ask_," Ginny said.

"Will you wear this to dinner?" Draco asked, extending his hand.

Ginny looked down and was surprised to see Draco holding out the necklace she had returned to Narcissa that morning. "But it's your mother's!" she said.

"She won't mind," Draco said. "She doesn't like it, remember?"

"_You _don't like it!" Ginny retorted. "You think it's gaudy."

"I did," Draco said, nodding. "It's grown on me, though. It turns out that sentimental value adds to its charm after all."

"The story about your grandparents touched you that much?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"Oh, no," Draco said, waving a hand dismissively. "I couldn't care less about that."

"Then what kind of sentimental value can it have?"

"Without this necklace, we wouldn't be sitting here right now, and you certainly wouldn't have agreed to have dinner with me tonight."

"Oh," Ginny said quietly. She supposed that he was right, in a convoluted sort of way.

"So, will you wear it?" Draco asked.

"I couldn't possibly," Ginny said, shaking her head.

"Why not?" Draco asked, confused. "You've worn it for years."

"That was before I knew how much it was worth." That piece of information was sure to leave her reeling for weeks.

"It will just sit in the vault if you don't wear it," Draco said persuasively.

"But why?" Ginny asked, turning so she could look more fully at Draco. "Why do you want me to wear it?"

"Partly because I know it's important to you, because it reminds you of your brother. It's one way of making amends for my accusation," Draco said.

"You don't need to make amends, Draco," Ginny said. "I'm just happy that you seem to have forgiven me for what I did to you."

Draco ignored her entirely. "And partly," he continued, reaching out to trace a finger along Ginny's collarbone. "Partly because I can't imagine it on any other woman."

Draco's words sent shivers down Ginny's spine. She thought of what Narcissa had said about the necklace being destined for Draco's future wife, and from the intensity of his expression, wondered if he was thinking about that too. She didn't say anything, however. It was too soon to contemplate anything even resembling marriage; she was still adjusting to the idea that she might actually _like_ him.

Draco's fingers had moved to Ginny's cheek, making it difficult for her to think. She stilled his hand with her own. "Fine, then," she said breathily. "I'll wear it, but just this once."

"We'll see about that," Draco said slyly.

Ginny had no chance to respond, as Monty stepped out from the wings just then. "Hello, hello!" he boomed. "I see you two are both feeling better. Just like this theater—just like new. Beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yes, beautiful," Ginny said happily, looking around at the theater once more. It somehow looked brighter now than it had when she came in; everything looked brighter. "Does anything else need to be done, Monty?"

"No, no," Monty answered. "Not today at any rate. Tomorrow's another matter, of course. Now that the restoration work is done, we can start in earnest on the play, and the real fun begins!"

"We'll see you tomorrow, then, Monty," Ginny said cheerfully, but the director had already disappeared back stage. She turned to Draco. "Until tonight, then?" she asked.

"Until tonight," Draco answered, taking one of Ginny's hands in both of his own, and pressing the necklace into her palm. He smirked, then added, "When the real fun begins."

"We'll see," Ginny said, laughing. She extracted her hands from Draco's and began to make her way out of the theater. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked, and the sensation gave her goose bumps. Ginny realized that she had no idea of what to expect from Draco, but she was very much looking forward to finding out.


End file.
